


Legacy

by 221bdragonslayer



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 09:15:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18635197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221bdragonslayer/pseuds/221bdragonslayer
Summary: "When he glanced down at her, her wide eyes were full of something so gentle and pitying that he couldn’t help but be stunned by it. She didn’t just have Tony’s smirk and Tony’s dark hair, she had his heart."Peter bonds with Morgan and ponders the legacy of a hero. Post Endgame, contains SPOILERS.





	Legacy

He brought flowers. May had helped him pick them out—okay, May had _picked_ them out. Even a decision as small as choosing a bouquet of flowers became a momentous task when it had to be done through the haze that settled around him whenever he thought of the place where Tony’s body lay. It forced him to confront the swirling storm of paradoxes and emotions he felt; Peter had seen the life fade from Tony with his own eyes, but the little boy inside of him that had idolized his hero sobbed that it was impossible for Ironman to die.

Last night, he had found every single one of Tony’s press releases, news appearances, and talk show appearances on Youtube. He listened to Tony’s jokes and couldn’t help a tremulous smile. He watched Tony dole out scholarships and grants and fly around in the suit saving lives and felt a sense of awe for just how many people, himself included, that Tony had touched with his generosity and selflessness. He found footage of Tony after Afghanistan, haggard and worn yet resolute to announce a new life-changing course for his company, and marveled at his strength. He saw Tony announce to the world that he was Ironman, and that was when he broke down.

May found him then, hugging himself on the couch at three am, and he sobbed in her arms, allowing her to stroke his hair and murmur soft, unintelligible reassurances until he felt like a numb, empty shell of the Peter who loved and felt.

“It’s me,” he whispered now to the gravestone in front of him. “The Spiderling.” The words stuck in his throat, and he had to choke them out. “The crime-fighting spider.”

“Remember when you took my suit away, Tony?” Peter reached out to trace a delicate petal of the bouquet that he’d just laid in front of the tombstone. There was a sea of flowers and small gifts and toy Ironman helmets like the one he’d had as a child, and he still couldn’t help but think how little it all seemed in comparison to how much Tony had always given.

“I said that I wanted to be like you. And you said that you wanted me to be better.” Peter wasn’t, he discovered, empty yet. Maybe he never would be.

“That was nonsense. I could never be like you, but if I could..that would be more than enough for anyone, Tony.”

He buried his head in his arms and just sat, sniffling, lost in thought.

“Are you Peter?”

His head popped up, and Peter turned to see a little girl with curious eyes and dark brown hair. At the funeral, she had been wound around Pepper’s legs; May had whispered to him that she was Tony’s daughter, but his eyes had been fixed straight ahead and all his focus on fighting back the tears that burned beneath his eyelids. Now, he studied her properly.

At his silence, she gave him a raised eyebrow that was either genetic or a darn good impression because it made the realization that this was Tony’s _daughter crash_  over him fully.

“Umm, yeah,” he stammered, “I’m Peter. How did…how did you know?”

She plopped down in the grass beside him, busy fingers plucking strands of grass only to let them drop again. “From the picture in Daddy’s office.”

“He had a picture of me in his office?”

“It made him sad to talk about it. He missed you,” she said, stilling and turning earnest eyes, indignant on her father’s behalf, up to Peter. “Why didn’t you visit?”

The question, innocent as it was, felt like an accusation to Peter’s shattered heart. He glanced away from Morgan’s gaze, unable to hold it, and swallowed.

“I couldn’t,” were the only soft words that Peter could force through the sudden stinging lump in his throat.

“Oh.” For a few long seconds, they sat in silence. Then, Peter felt a small hand pat his shoulder consolingly. “Then Daddy prob’ly understood.”

When he glanced down at her, her wide eyes were full of something so gentle and pitying that he couldn’t help but be stunned by it.

She didn’t just have Tony’s smirk and Tony’s dark hair, she had his heart.

Maybe the little boy deep inside was right, and it was impossible for Ironman to die.

She was Tony’s legacy. And though not in a flesh and blood way, Peter was, too, and so was every life that had been touched by Tony Stark. His most important investments had never been about the money, not truly; they’d been in  _people._

Peter felt another brush of her small fingers, this time against his arm. “You can visit now.”

“I would like that.” And he really, really would. He wanted to tell her stories of her daddy and hear the stories she had of her years with him. He wanted to buy Morgan Stark, Tony’s legacy and yet so beautifully herself, ice cream and give her piggyback rides and help her with projects.

Peter slipped a daisy out of the bouquet. His fingers fumbled slightly, but Morgan waited patiently and made a soft sound of pleasure as he tucked the flower in her hair.

That was where Tony would like it best, anyway.

 

 


End file.
